


A Night in the Rough

by lillylover89



Category: Fallen London | Echo Bazaar
Genre: Blow Jobs, Cum drinking, Drugs, Gay Sex, Gratuitous Smut, Happy Ending?, Hedonist Reader, Kinky, Loose Canon, Multi, Orgy, Poet reader, Pure Smut, Reader-Insert, Recreational Drug Use, References to Drugs, Rubbery Man Involved, Semi-Public Humiliation, Semi-Public Sex, Shameless Smut, Sort of roofies, Verbal Humiliation, Watersports, male reader - Freeform, not safe sex, porn with a semblance of plot, slight xenophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:54:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24354664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lillylover89/pseuds/lillylover89
Summary: A poet of Fallen London makes his way to the Rusty Tramp to find interesting company.
Relationships: Dock Workers/Male Reader
Kudos: 10





	A Night in the Rough

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, I know it's been a while since I've posted anything, but I recently dug through all of my stuff to find any and all vaguely postable stuff. The quality is all over the place for these since some of them are from a while back, but I thought I might as well toss some of these up. Oh and fair warning some of these are self-indulgent as heck because I either didn't know any better or didn't care. Enjoy?
> 
> Also this is pretty much pure smut based off of one of the dialogue branches of Fallen London, a training branch I think? It's been a while since I've played and I know I didn't even see half of it, but hoo boy did it inspire me!

What better way to spend your night than down at the dock’s pubs, talking with the dock workers? Or spending the time pursuing more carnal delights than simply talking.

You were running on barely any sleep due to certain nightmares plaguing you, of course you’d encouraged them as they were a wealth of inspiration for your poems, but now the toll was catching up to you like a marsh-wolf on the prowl. But that mattered naught to you as you had a commission whose deadline was nearly knocking on your door and you’d scarcely had any ideas for it. All that you’d thought of felt flat and about as droll as a tomb-colonist in a library, you needed to find a muse. Or multiple muses if you were going to satisfy your customer. They had only given you one prompt, a maddening one at that, “I want an erotic tale about rough men of the zee.” So much possibility and yet you couldn’t seem to get past the infernal block in your creativity that settled itself in your way when you glared at a piece of paper. So now you were off to The Courier's Barrel, a pub recommended to you by a good friend. A nervous shiver ran through you as you turned down a street and there it was, it was a far cry from your usual haunt of The Singing Mandrake. Raucous laughter and the sounds of glass smashing echoed off the buildings as you approached slowly taking in the figures lurking in the side alleys. Some were engaged in fascinating activities intended to be clandestine and others held something in hand that glinted dangerously. But you weren’t their target, at least not yet. As you walked closer you saw rowdy men cheering and singing as they left. As you passed them they were singing a bawdy song about sirens and rubbery men, you noted it as you walked into the warm light of the pub.

The air inside was almost oppressively warm and the smell of sweat, fungal alcohols, and spices permeated the entire place. Your entrance wasn’t even noticed by the grand majority of the loud patrons, but some saw you and your heart stuttered as their eyes drug up and down your form. A loud thump and a cheer rose from the left area where someone just lost a needle-wrestling match and you used the distraction to walk to the bar. The entire bar was alive with song, boisterous chatter, and merriment that thrummed through your entire body like a hit of prisoner’s honey without the transportation. You cleared your throat and put on your best face as you shouted, “A round for the house, on me of course!” It was nearly lost amongst the noise, but those near the bar stared for a moment before a large man with salt scars grinned and said, “'Ere, lads, this one thinks our affections are for sale! Well, fair enough.” A ripple of laughter set your heart at ease as you sat a seat away from the large man. His grin hadn’t let up as he said, “The name’s Easton, yours?” You put on your most wicked smile as you said, “Most just call me hedonist, but you can call me ______.” Easton chuckled rough and low as he said, “______? A pretty name for a pretty boy.” He said it like he was tasting it, rolling his tongue around your name and you blushed at the compliment. The bartender cleared his throat as he said, “That’ll be a hundred echoes and fifty pence.” You winced internally, that was double what the commission was worth, but this was going to be an invaluable experience so you paid the man though you were careful to not show how much you were carrying on your person. As the bartender got to work you asked Easton, “Do you have any interesting tales to tell while we wait?” The burly man shrugged as he said, “Everyone in this rathole has. But I’ll tell you one of mine, it started when we were zailing the unterzee for a man by the name of William Boroughs…” You listened with rapt attention as Easton wove a tale of monsters, betrayal, mutiny, and lurking horrors of the zee.

When he was done your drinks had arrived and you took a swig from the large mug. It was absolutely disgusting, one of the worst things you’d tasted since leaving New Newgate Prison. But you didn’t let it show, not in front of the men clearly waiting for an outrageous reaction. No, you appeared to take it in stride and the men that had gathered for Easton’s tale laughed heartily. One of them shouted above the laughter, “So what’s a toff like you doin ina place like this?” You snorted, you a toff? Preposterous, you replied, “Not likely! No, I’m simply a humble poet of Veilgarden, looking for inspiration for a commissioned piece.” Another swig of the swill and your stomach nearly pushed it back out immediately so you set the mug down as someone else asked, “What kinda inspiration could ya get from here?” Your smile turned from genial to lecherous as you said, “Why, you are all inspiring in your own ways, though the kind of inspiration my prose needs is the kind best found in private behind closed doors.” The insinuation was not lost upon the majority of the crowd and some leered right back as Easton’s hand landed on your lower back and curled around your hip. You shivered visibly in delight as he said, “Well then, what do you say boys? Should we inspire our poet friend elsewhere?” Some of the crowd peeled off in disinterest or disgust, but most of the men nodded. Easton gently pushed you to stand and escorted you through the main floor with your crowd of now aroused rough men followed. The bartender shouted, “No killing anyone back there! I won’t ave another bloody mess and ya won’t end up in the gutter dead tomorrow!” One of the men opened the door as Easton shouted, “Don’t you worry bout that Devon, you’ll have the standard mess to clean!” Laughter rose up from the pub as you were pulled into the somewhat large room with Easton following you.

Inside the room there were several beds and accouterments for the night’s activities. Easton closed the door gently as some of the men began undressing already, your heart beat hard as you felt a hard cock beneath fabric rub against your ass as hands gripped your hips to pull you closer. Hot breath ghosted over your red ear as Easton whispered, “We’re going to have a grand time tonight, ______.” You shivered and one of the other men grabbed your chin to tilt your face up for a kiss. His lips were rough and he tasted like gin as hands guided your own to a cock or two while Easton began groping your crotch. Moaning into the stranger’s mouth you melted into the touch of many men as you were undressed as you pumped two cocks in one hand and a single in the other, Easton’s own rubbed insistently against your ass as he endeavored to remove your slacks. Someone undid your vest and shirt revealing your slim chest to mouths and tongues as your kiss ended for want of breath and one of the cocks spilled seed on your hand. The other two weren’t far behind and then your mind was on the fact that your pants as well as your underwear were being pulled down revealing your hardened member to the eyes of your many companions. All the while you were being called a tramp, a slut, a whore, and you were loving every insult and moaning at every touch freely. Semen landed on your chest as Easton’s cock pressed at your unprepared asshole and your head was forced downward to suck on a cock while your hands steadied you on someone’s hairy thighs. It was a mess of sounds, smells, sights, and feelings as you were being used and jeered at by smugglers, lightermen, and zailors alike. Cum slid down your throat and your chest as someone licked your nipple and another load landed on your thighs as someone began pumping your cock and Easton began prepping your asshole with some oil. Soon he was sliding in and you came on a tattooed man’s face as more cum hit various areas of your body. You gasped for breath as someone licked your neck and another cock filled your mouth with an utterance of, “Suck this you whore.” There was a bite on your shoulder and another on your side as men left and others entered with someone shouting to the pub proper, “Come have a turn with this poet slut and give him some inspiration! He’s a good cock sucker!” Your mind was fuzzing over from overstimulation as more cocks and cum and touches came and went, at some point someone pissed down your throat making you swallow every drop and that became a new trend of piss on your thighs, your cock, and in your mouth especially. Cum filled your ass regularly and at some point a rubbery man was introduced and he filled your mouth with sweet tasting slime as people laughed and jeered. More piss on your ass as the rubbery man filled your mouth with cum and left, your hands were coated in semen and piss as you pumped more cock. Eventually you felt someone jab you with a needle and your head went fuzzy as you came again and the rest of the night blurred into debauchery.

In the morning you woke with several men sleeping around you, feeling sticky and sore as you stood. A stream of cum leaked down your legs and you went to the small bathroom and washed up. Leaving there you saw that someone had preserved your clothing and there was a note on top that read, “I hope that was enough inspiration for you pretty boy, Best regards Easton.” You smiled as you redressed and went home to write a tale of a zailor orgy at zee.


End file.
